Cary Hazard walked away from his life as the front man for the band, Cascadia, to embrace a quieter existence in Zero. With no celebrities and no one wanting things from him, he’s happy. He’s also lonely. He wants to find that one special person to warm his nights and love him—tattoos and all. Will he or end up alone again or will the hunk at the Eight Ball bar be his saving grace?

Layne Stevens has a past he’s not proud of. He’s looking for redemption, but not in the hands of a former star. If he can stay in the shadows, he’s happy, but lonely. The man singing at the bar has his full attention. He wants to wrap himself up in the guy’s strong arms. Will he be able to open up and offer his heart or will the truth destroy everything he holds dear? It’s a matter of catching Cary.

Excerpt

The busboy he’d been ogling moved to the table next to Cary. He plunked the tub down and rested one hand on his hip. “How are you doing on that beer? Your server took off. If you want another, I’ll get it.”

“You’re serving tonight?” Cary finally saw his face. Thick dark lashes framed his hazel eyes. A silver ball decorated the space between his bottom lip and chin. A tiny bit of mahogany-colored hair dusted his cheeks and concentrated on his chin. The man looked young. Like, young enough to be Cary’s son, young. Damn.

“Yeah.” He snorted. “I’m a jack of all trades tonight. My boss, Tyson, called me in to wait tables, but the guy who normally busses quit an hour into the night.”

The man smiled, but dipped his head and blocked Cary’s view. When the guy came back with the glass in hand, he winked. “Here you go.” He placed the drink on the table. “You did a good job on that song. This lot wouldn’t know good music if they had it whacked over their heads.”

“You know Cascadia’s stuff?”

“I’ve got the cassette. My older brother passed it down to me. I’m more into harder stuff.”

“Ah.” Cary sipped the drink, liking the burn of the vodka down his throat. The brother passed the cassette down.... Good God.

“The tape broke so I got the CD over at Vintage. Leon hunted it down for me. He’s good at that stuff.” He cleared the empty beer bottles from Cary’s table. “Speaking of Cascadia, you nailed the flourish at the end. Most people can’t do that and kill it when they try.”

“Thanks.” The tips of his ears burned. He knew he’d nailed the flourish, but hearing the words from the younger man pleased him. “Lots of people sing it?”

“Nah.” He shrugged. “Most people tear the currently popular crap apart.” He picked up the bin. “I’ll be right back. If you need anything, I’m Layne.”